


Props

by YouKnowMeAsJ



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-12 05:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5654356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouKnowMeAsJ/pseuds/YouKnowMeAsJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started with the basket (which is now chapter 1): I had the idea to write about props that are very important to developing a lot of our stories, but never get the spotlight. I decided to put all of my ideas together into just one post, because some are not long enough for a full story.</p><p>Every chapter is meant to be independent, unless otherwise indicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The basket

**Author's Note:**

> A small homage to a prop we all use in our fics, and never gets the recognition it deserves. Raise your hand if you're in the mood for some light, quasi-angsty, questionably-in-character, fluff!

She had brought him lunch ( _again. He loved it when she brought him lunch_ ), and they had shared a companionable picnic of Mr. B’s delectable lasagna ( _he hadn’t been to Strano’s since his last talk with Concetta, but with Mr. Butler’s cooking and Phryne’s company, he couldn’t really say he missed it_ ). She even brought a small flask of excellent red wine, and even though he protested at first, he eventually took a swig ( _or four. She loved it when he broke his own rules for her_ ). They had laughed and joked through their meal, with the easy banter that came so comfortably to them both. When she was finished, she wiped her mouth delicately with a napkin, but missed a spot ( _on purpose_ ); he chuckled and reached over his desk, wiping away the stray spot of tomato sauce from her bottom lip, then sucking on his thumb so it wouldn’t go to waste.

It was such a simple gesture, carried out in a moment, with no second intentions. Yet it was so intimate that her breath caught in her chest ( _oh God_ ), and he could feel an electric current travel from his thumb straight to his groin.

He swallowed hard ( _oh God_ ). “You missed a spot” he explained unnecessarily, mostly just to fill the charged silence between them.

( _She found she was out of witty replies_ ). “Will you never just kiss me, Jack?” she asked simply.

He choked at the directness of her question ( _their format was banter and suggestion, not frankness and sincerity_ ). “I should get back to work, Miss Fisher. Thank you for lunch. Please be sure to thank Mr. Butler as well” He reached for a file purposefully, ignoring the fact that his desk was still littered with dirty plates and silverware.

She ignored his request, his tone, and the way he was pointedly looking at anything but her. “Don’t you want to? Kiss me, I mean” ( _Did he want to? Sometimes she was almost sure, but then other times…_ ). He closed his eyes, but didn’t respond, so she continued. “I want to” she confessed softly “I want to kiss you all the time. But I don’t because I’m really not sure you’d want me to. You flirt and tease, but I’m not certain you want me” ( _She hadn’t been this open with a man in years… she felt Jack deserved it. Lord knew she’d put him through enough_ ).

He wanted to pull her over his desk and show her exactly how much he wanted to kiss her, ( _how many ways he’d dreamt of covering her skin with his lips, how long he could hold his breath so his mouth didn’t have to leave hers_ ). But he knew what would happen. It would be perfect, glorious, everything he’d ever hoped for and many things he was sure he couldn’t possibly imagine. And then her Phryneness, the very thing that called him to her like a moth to a flame, would take over. She would move on to her next dozen suitors, and he would be left behind, much like the moth that actually reaches the flame, burnt to ashes, his life shattered to pieces. For some time now, it had felt like they were getting closer, like maybe something could happen between them ( _and then Compton had appeared out of nowhere, and shown Jack that he couldn’t handle being with Phryne on her terms, even_ if _she wanted him, which he doubted very much_ ). He had to protect himself, though his heart was already taken –as Concetta had so wisely detected-, and it meant giving up the only thing he could remember really wanting in years. So he did what he had to do, and lied through a set jaw: “I assure you, Miss Fisher, I don’t”

( _She didn’t believe him_ ). “When you touch me like you did just now, my skin feels like it’s burning. It’s electric, Jack. Don’t you feel it?” She ghosted the backs of her fingers over the knuckles of his right hand, which he had kept on the desk ( _he felt it down to his toes_ ). Jack moved his hand away with a jolt, as if burned.

“Miss Fisher, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please leave me to my work” he insisted, ( _hoping if maybe he was cold enough he’d offend her into leaving_ ).

She folded her hands in her lap. “Alright, then” she said quietly ( _maybe she’d been wrong… or maybe he was too much of a coward to admit she was right. Either way…_ ). She looked at him with so much pain in her eyes, so much sadness, that his heart snapped in two ( _Well, if they were being direct…_ ).

“That’s not fair, Phryne. You can’t act heartbroken just because I refuse to join the ranks of your discarded men” He spoke softly, despite the violence of his words “What happens after I kiss you, when you find another plaything to entertain you, and I’m left with my heart in a million pieces?” ( _He couldn’t believe he’d actually said that out loud_ ). “I’m begging you to leave me alone, Phryne”.

Phryne remained very still, and said nothing ( _so that was what he thought of her. How could he think she would treat him that way? And yet, if she was honest with herself, what else was there for him to think?_ ). She slowly gathered up the lunch things, taking her wicker basket and setting it in the middle of Jack’s desk.

“I bought this basket when Jane first came to live with me. We had a picnic at the beach” She spoke to the basket, without looking at Jack. “Mr. Butler used to keep it in the attic. It’s such a large, unwieldy thing, and we hardly ever used it. Just for the occasional outing with Jane and her friends. I think Dot borrowed it for her church once…” She ran her slim fingers over the wicker, thoughtfully.

Jack cleared his throat. “That’s… very interesting Miss Fisher. However, if you don’t mind, I really must get back to work” ( _She was leaving him alone, exactly like he asked. It still hurt. A part of him had hoped she’d ignore his request and jump in his lap to take the kiss they both wanted_ ).

Still not looking at him, Phryne continued. “About a year ago, Mr. Butler stopped putting the basket in the attic. He keeps it in the kitchen now; I believe he rather hates it, though of course he’d never say anything. It takes up all the available counter space, and is always underfoot. Poor Dot nearly broke her neck over the thing the other day”

( _He wished she’d just leave already, and at the same time wished she’d stay, always. How did she manage to do that to him?_ ). “Miss Fisher, really, I must get on with…”

Phryne interrupted, now looking directly at Jack in a way that pierced straight to his soul. “Now why do you suppose, Jack, that Mr. Butler –resourceful, brilliant Mr. Butler- would choose to keep this enormous basket in his kitchen, taking up useful space, instead of taking it up to the attic where it belongs?”

When Jack realized she really expected an answer, he shrugged his shoulders and sighed. “I have no idea, Miss Fisher, now would you please…”

She interrupted again. Her eyes had gone soft, and her tone was gentle. “It’s because about a year ago, I developed a little morning ritual” she came around his desk, to lean on his side of it “I wake up in the morning, and I quickly calculate whether I’ll get to see you that day. If we have a case together, then it’s easy: I’ll probably see you at the morgue, or interviewing some witness. I can come by and share my leads with you. But when we don’t have an ongoing case, I have to find an excuse” she reached out as if to touch him, but changed her mind and played with the ends of her scarf instead “And the perfect excuse is lunch. I ask Mr. Butler to pack something delicious –enough for Hugh as well, of course- and I bring it over. If I’m lucky, you’re here, and you’re hungry –well, luck doesn’t have much to do with that part. You’re always hungry- and I get to share your lunch” She gave him a look that would have made his knees collapse, if he hadn’t been sitting down. “If I’m even luckier, you’re not here at all”.

( _He knew she was baiting him, but he couldn’t resist humoring her_ ) “It’s better to _not_ eat lunch with me?”

( _She loved it when he humored her and took her bait_ ) She nodded and smiled a little. “Much better. When you’re not here, I leave the basket with Hugh. And I know you’ll return it that night. And then I get to share your dinner. And you stay for a nightcap afterwards. You’re much more relaxed than here at the station, we talk for longer, and there’s no constable to interrupt. And I can sit too close to you on my chaise. Much better reward for my effort, you see. I bring you lunch so often, it became pointless to lug this thing all the way up to the attic” She looked shy “I didn’t realize I was doing it on purpose, at first. It took me a couple of months to catch on. Mr. Butler, of course, figured it out immediately. He actually plans separate menus ahead of time, just for you” Phryne tilted her head “Do you know why I’m telling you all this, Jack?”

Jack realized his mouth was completely dry, because it had been hanging open for a while now. His heart was hammering in his chest. He swallowed and shook his head, not trusting his words.

She pressed her lips together, and he could have sworn her eyes seemed shinier than before, as if there were tears there. “I don’t know how you managed it, but you carved out a space for yourself in the middle of my chest. You’re not a plaything, Jack. I’m not trying to seduce you for entertainment. I’m not trying to seduce you at all, actually. I truly would like to see…” She trailed off, and pressed her lips together again. “But you can’t expect me to sit quietly in a corner until you feel inclined to give me the time of day. I am an unattached woman, and I’m free to share my time, my bed, my body, and whatever else I see fit, with whomever I want, whenever I want it” Jack looked down at the floor with those words. She lifted his head with one finger under his chin, until he met her eyes again. She spoke so very tenderly. “I haven’t, though, for a while now. Not that it’s any of your business, of course” He gave her one of the half-smiles that lightened her heart, and she continued. “I want to share all of that with you. I can’t promise you we’ll be together forever. You’ve been divorced, you know how ridiculous those promises are. But I can promise you that if I ever do ‘discard’ you, I’ll be discarding a piece of my own heart. I’m in no hurry to do that, Jack”. She brushed some imaginary dust off his shoulder, and got off his desk, as if to leave.

It took Jack a second to recover from the shock of Phryne’s words. When he did, he grabbed her right hand and pulled her into his lap. He curled his left arm around her waist, and cupped her cheek with his right hand. And oh, how he kissed her! It wasn’t a perfect kiss; far from it. Like most first kisses ( _Café Repliqué didn’t count now_ ), it was somewhat clumsy and sloppy and overeager on both their parts. But it held all the passion he’d saved up during the time he’d known her, all the tenderness she felt for him, all the love, all the concern, all the wanting, all the respect and admiration… it was all there, in that kiss. It was a kiss to stop time with, a kiss to live and die for, a kiss that made up for every time he hadn’t kissed her, and made promises of every kiss to come. It was a kiss that made her question why she’d ever wasted time kissing anybody else ( _if she’d known he kissed like this, she’d have assaulted him in Lydia Andrews’ bathroom_ ).

“I was lying before” he panted, when they finally dragged themselves apart “I do want to kiss you”

Phryne laughed ( _feeling her shake lightly in his arms was the most exquisite feeling Jack had ever had_ ). “Yes, I can see that” she said, and then she went right back to kissing him ( _they had so much lost time to make up for_ ). She moved her head to kiss along his jaw, until she reached the spot just under his left ear. She kissed the lobe before gently tugging at it with her teeth ( _nghhhhh…._ ). Jack groaned softly, and turned his head to find her lips again. He ran his hand down her face and neck, past her breast, down her side to her hip, and then all the way down to her left ankle, which he took in his hand. He then ran his hand back up her leg, snaking it up her skirt, until it came to rest on her thigh, his fingertips just above her garter, feeling her bare skin. She shivered and moaned, pulling on his hair to tilt his head back and kiss him deeper ( _she felt like her insides had turned to liquid fire, just from some light fingertips on her thigh… how did he manage to do that to her?_ ). He moved his hand upwards and back, until he was cupping her bottom, using it to turn her more towards him so he could hold her closer ( _never close enough_ ).

A slight commotion at the front desk woke Jack from the blissful state he was in. He regretfully pulled himself apart from Phryne, removing his hand from under her clothes ( _he was a little proud of how disheveled she looked_ ). “Phryne, I’m sorry, I got carried away. We can’t…”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry too” ( _She wasn’t, not at all. She was actually a little proud of how carried away he’d gotten_ ). Phryne nuzzled Jack’s neck for a second, while she got her bearings ( _what time was it? What day was it?_ ), kissed him on the nose, stood and straightened out her skirt, smoothing down her hair with her fingers, and reaching for her purse, to reapply her lipstick, as she normally did after lunch ( _completely unfazed, as if nothing had happened. How did she manage it? He could barely remember what day it was_ ).

Jack watched her proceedings in adoring contemplation ( _God, she was magnificent_ ), and stopped her just before she put on her trademark red lips. He stood and walked around the desk to where she was standing, grabbed her by the waist and kissed her until her knees buckled ( _whatever it was that had unleashed itself in Jack, she was not complaining_ ). “I have to get back to work”

“I’m not stopping you”. He pushed her against the wall and kissed her again.

“You have to leave, please” He kissed her again, with total abandon “Please, Phryne, or I’ll never get anything done”

She giggled ( _how could he be so adorable and so sexy at the same time?_ ). “I’m not doing anything! Besides, I still have to pack my basket”

Jack grinned. “Leave it. I’ll return it tonight”, he rumbled.

( _Mmm… that sounded promising_ ) “Seven o’clock?” He nodded “And you’ll stay for dinner?” He nodded again “And perhaps a nightcap?” ( _She wanted to suggest more, but didn’t want to scare him off… all in due time_ ).

“Only if you promise to sit too close to me on your chaise” ( _He wished he were brave enough to suggest more… but there would be time for that_ ).

“Oh, I think we can work something out” She grabbed her purse and kissed him lightly. “Seven o’clock, then. Don’t be late. I need that basket”

And with a wink, she was gone.


	2. The notepad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set at some point during late season 1/ early season 2.
> 
> This chapter is for deedeeinfj, who prompted the prop.

He kept it in his pocket at all times, pulling it out to make note of everything worth remembering: a name, a physical description, an address. So when he couldn’t remember the license plate number of the car they’d seen that morning, Phryne grabbed the little black notepad from where it lay on his desk, and started flipping through it.

“Miss Fisher…!”

“What? I saw you write it down!”

She turned the pages quickly, and just as quickly noticed something odd: interspersed among his notes, many of the pages showed a seemingly random collection of little dots. Some dots were larger than others, and though they had all been made with the same pen, they were shaded to different degrees of darkness. They were arranged in almost the same pattern over and over again, on different pages, yet small changes could be seen if one looked at all of the designs at once. The last design was repeated on many pages, exactly the same every time. It looked vaguely familiar, yet she couldn’t quite place it. Her natural curiosity took over.

“What’s this, Jack?”

He shrugged “Nothing. Sometimes I doodle in my pad when I’m thinking” He cleared his throat. “Did you find the number?”

She could almost sense there was more, but wasn’t sure what it could be; Jack looked mildly uncomfortable. Perhaps he was embarrassed to be caught doing something as unofficial as doodling. In any case, they had a murderer to catch. “Here it is! It’s the same car Hugh saw at the docks. Let’s go!”

Much, much later –after a mad dash to the docks, a car chase that challenged even _her_ excellent driving abilities, a violent tackle from the fleeing suspect, and a full confession from a finally cornered woman- Phryne soaked her troubles away in her bathtub. There was nothing quite like a luxurious bubble bath to sort the world to rights again, she thought. Her left shoulder was rather the worse for wear after being tackled, but it was nothing a good soak and some of Mr. Butler’s special ointment couldn’t fix.

When the water started to cool, she got out of the tub, and dried herself off with her fluffiest towel. Sitting completely naked at her vanity, she gently rubbed her shoulder with her trusted advisor’s muscle remedy; the ingredients were a secret, but she could smell eucalyptus. As she worked with her fingers, she looked closely in the mirror at the affected area, checking for a bruise, when something caught her eye. She had trouble recognizing the pattern at first, as it seemed to be backwards, but after a while she realized she had seen a very detailed account of the freckles on her shoulder, earlier that same day. She smiled to herself and dressed carefully, choosing a sleeveless blouse; she was expecting a very observant man to be stopping by for a nightcap, any minute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The word "doodle" sounded a little out of place at first, so I looked it up: it comes from German, and its use in the sense we know today (as a meaningless drawing) goes back to the 1930's. So I'm only a little ahead of the times. Plus, it's such a great word. Doodledoodledoodledoodledoodledoodledoodle...


	3. The telescope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know this isn't _technically_ a prop, because we don't actually see it on the show. But I just HAD to give this a shot. So here goes my take on the age-old question: WHAT THE HELL WAS HE THINKING??!!
> 
> The scene begins with some delightful and talented copy/pasting from the actual show's dialogue. And I am 99% certain that I blatantly stole my last line from somebody, although after careful research (and by that I mean "reading a bunch of you guys' fics") I wasn't able to find the original author. So I dedicate this to whomever I stole my last line from. Thank you, anonymous person!

“Turn off your torch, Jack. If it’s still glowing, we’ll see it” She looked around for a source of light, but her heart wasn’t in it, her mind preoccupied by her family troubles. “Ah Jack, what if it’s my fault? What if I drove my father away? I railed against him. What if… what if something happens and I never see him again?”

“Whatever happens to your father, it’s not your fault. And nothing’s _going_ to happen” ( _At least not until I get my hands on the bloody bastard for making you worry like this_ )

She pulled off her hat in a gesture of exasperation. ( _She is just so beautiful. What would happen if I kissed her?_ )

“Perhaps he has just headed back to England after all”

( _Perhaps you should forget your father for a minute and let me kiss you_ ) “If it’s all expanding, England will move further away” ( _Wait, that’s not right… is it?_ )

“But it all looks very still to me”

“That’s because you’re not a telescope” ( _Not the best way to put it, but I’m sure she’ll understand_ )

She rolled her eyes a little. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

( _Guess not, then. Come on, Jack. Now or never, mate_ ) “More like a romantic overture” ( _I can do this. I can do this. Please don’t laugh at me. I can do this_ )

Phryne was very careful not to laugh. “Is comparing women to telescopes generally considered romantic?”

Jack reached out a hand and tucked a strand of Phryne’s hair behind her ear ( _God, she’s so soft all over…_ ), his fingers lingering on her jaw. When he spoke, his voice was husky and she could feel it down to her toes. “Of course not, Miss Fisher. It isn’t a general romantic overture. It’s _your_ romantic overture. It’s not meant to be romantic to anyone but you” ( _You redefine what ‘romantic’ means to me_ ).

She smiled softly. “Alright then. I am not a telescope. Care to elaborate?”

He caressed her cheek softly with the backs of his fingers. “You are an incredible woman, Phryne Fisher. I truly believe you capable of anything. But you need to know it’s alright to have limitations. It doesn’t make you weak, it just makes you human. You don’t have to take everything on… solve everything, by yourself. You can lean on someone else. You can lean on me. I can be your partner. We can be a team” ( _Let me show you, Phryne. Please  just… try_ )

“We already are a team, Jack. I trust you with my life”

“Yes, you do. But you don’t trust me with your heart” ( _I’d take such good care of your heart, Phryne_ )

Her eyes filled with tears, and her voice faltered. “The last time I trusted someone with my heart, I lost myself. How do I know that won’t happen again?”

“You don’t” he said simply “But there’s a difference between a partner and every other kind of lover you’ve had before, Phryne. A partner is your equal. A team is a joint endeavor. You trust me with your heart, and I trust you with mine. We are both equally at risk” He cupped her face, huffed out a laugh, and smiled his crooked little just-for-Phryne smile “That’s a lie, actually”

She looked genuinely surprised, and a little dismayed “A lie?”

“Yes. I lost my heart and my sanity to you a very long time ago, so there isn’t much of a risk for me. I don’t have anything left to lose” ( _And I don’t regret it for a second_ )

Phryne choked back a sob at the naked sincerity in Jack’s eyes. “I’m afraid I haven’t been very kind to your heart, have I?”

( _I know you’re just scared, love. You’re not unkind_ ) Jack shook his head firmly. “You owed me nothing, Phryne. I’ve always known this was all on me” He looped his arms behind her back, until they came to rest very loosely at her waist, pulling her a little closer to him, but not much: she was free to move away if she wanted to. She took the opportunity to wrap her arms tightly around his middle, pulling herself up to him. He smiled, and brought his lips down to hers. “May I?” he whispered, his nose resting very lightly against her cheekbone. ( _Don’t make me beg, Phryne_ ).

She answered by pushing herself up on her toes, and kissing him deeply, snaking her arms around his neck. He grabbed on to her waist as if for dear life, and returned her kiss with a softness belied by how tightly he was holding her ( _Control yourself, man. Think of something else. I am the very model of a modern major general…_ ). His kiss was gentle, yet still conveyed immeasurable passion, and left her breathless and tingly and wanting much more.

She tore her lips away from his to catch her breath and look into his eyes, and was distracted by something shiny. “Jack! Behind you!”, she whispered. She made to move, but he tightened his grip.

“Is he larger than me, and does he have a weapon?” ( _Actually, I don’t really care, either way…_ )

Phryne looked confused. “Who? There’s no one there, Jack”

“Then let it wait”, he begged, and she grinned, rubbing her nose against his and pecking him lightly on the lips.

“No”

He smiled to himself as he let her go. She would be the death of him someday. ( _But what a way to go_ ).


	4. The _______. Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this reads better if you don't know what the prop is until it actually appears. Sorry for the suspense! =)

Two days later, he heard a familiar voice at the front desk. In a matter of seconds, his new constable -looking slightly rattled- was announcing that Dr. Elizabeth Macmillan needed to speak with him urgently.

 

He stood as she entered. "Doctor Macmi..."

 

She waved him off before he could finish, and took a seat in Phryne's chair. "Mac, please". He sat down as well.

 

"Mac then. How may I help you?"

 

"I'm here on business, Inspector. I have very strict instructions from a very terrifying woman to take you out for a drink at least every three days, and to make sure you eat enough, until Dot comes back from her honeymoon; she'll take over feeding duties after that. I am to use Phryne's personal stash of whisky and Mr. Butler's excellent cooking skills to complete my task. So finish whatever it is you're doing here, and let's go. Mr. B. expects us at seven, and it's already six thirty".

 

The thought of being in Phryne's home without her seemed both inappropriate and somehow intimate, as if it were his place to be there, as if he belonged. The fact that she had thought to take care of him in her absence, well that was just... He smiled. "Mac, that's alright, you don't have to..."

 

"Were you not listening?" she cut in "I don't get my orders from you. Frankly, I'm a lot more scared of Phryne than I am of the entire Victorian Constabulary. So get packing, I don't like cold gratin". The look on her face made him quickly understand what had rattled his constable. He obediently stacked his papers, and took his coat and hat from their peg.

 

"Lead the way, Mac"

  

\----

 

Thirty minutes later, they were sitting down to one of Mr. Butler's delicious culinary masterpieces. Jack had feared dinner would be awkward, but he found Mac was incredibly easy to talk to. She  was an avid reader and possessed a sense of humor even drier than his. He was enjoying himself tremendously and silently thanking Phryne for arranging it all.

 

"So did she ask you?" Mac said quite casually, in the middle of their meal. He looked surprised. "That's right, I know. She's been thinking about it ever since she came up with this hare-brained scheme -which, granted, is all of two minutes, but still..." Mac shrugged. "What are you going to do, Jack?"

 

He took a deep breath, and fiddled with his fork. "I've thought about it Mac. I want to. But there's a whole world out there" he quoted "How could I ever compare?"

 

Mac tilted her head and raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Jack, I think the real question is: how could the whole world ever compare to you?" 

 

Jack smiled. "That's nice of you to say"

 

"I'm not being nice, I'm being observant. In all the years I've known Phryne, she's always worked very hard not to attach herself to people. Other than Janey, I don't think I've ever seen her miss anybody. Probably _because_ of Janey, actually, but the point is when Phryne leaves a place, she moves on, she's gone. She doesn't keep mementos and she doesn't keep in touch. Yet now she's asked you to go with her. And she's left us all instructions to take care of you while she's gone, besides. Cec and Bert are to drive by the station at night to check if your light is still on, you know. And if it looks like you're not sleeping well, I'm to prescribe a tonic" Mac shook her head. "Phryne is a very loving woman, Jack, but she lives in the moment. She takes excellent care of her people when she's around, but she doesn't dwell when she has to go."

 

Jack felt a fluttering in his chest, which he chose to ignore for the moment. "I don't doubt that she cares for me, Mac, but..." he trailed off.

 

"But you're madly in love with her, and you're afraid she can't give you what you need" Mac rolled her eyes at Jack's shocked expression "Oh don't look like that. Anyone who's seen you two together figured it out long before you did"

 

Jack huffed out a laugh. "I don't want to change her, not at all, not the tiniest bit. Alright, maybe her driving... nothing else, though. But I'm afraid loving her as she is will break my heart and kill me"

 

Mac laughed. "You're probably right. But from the looks of you, staying here without her won't lead to a long and happy life either" 

 

Jack smiled his concession. "Why do you care, Mac?"

 

"I like you, Jack. You're a good man. You've always treated me with nothing but respect. And Phryne's like a sister to me. I owe her a lot. You make her happier than I've ever seen her, even if I'm not sure she realizes it" Mac grinned "Besides, I'm afraid if left to your own devices, you two idiots will muddle everything up. Someone has to step in here".  


	5. The _______. Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that Part I was also added today.
> 
> The Mystery Prop makes its appearance here. I took a minute to post this second part because I realized I never actually say the prop's name. (Not the swallow. Love the swallow. But not the swallow). Let me know if there's confusion.

And so it was that, roughly three months later, exactly on her birthday, Jack found himself checking into a small London inn, consulting a map to see how far he was from Phryne's flat. He hadn't wanted her to know he was coming; it was the only way he could make himself go. He was afraid that if she knew, she'd have too much time to regret asking him, too much time to make herself forget the feelings (if any) she had for him. So it fell to Mac, with a sigh of annoyance that could probably be heard all the way to England, to come up with a plan: Jack left Phryne 12 telegrams, one for every week that it would take him to reach her, which Mac would send from Melbourne. The notes were brief, mostly Shakespeare and other such romantic nonsense (Mac's words). They were all different, though the message was really only one: I'm terribly sorry, but I've fallen in love with you. 

 

After settling in and having a shower, Jack pondered the situation. It was Phryne's birthday, and surely she would have exquisite and elaborate plans for the evening, probably involving every male member of the royal family. A cautious man would wait a day before visiting her.

 

Having crossed the world to see her, he was no longer a cautious man.

 

Carefully packing up the birthday gifts he brought her (a couple of confiscated books he had pilfered from the station; a small fragrant parcel from Mr. Butler; and a light package about half the size of a shoebox, from Mac), he put on his best suit and set out to cover the most difficult leg of his journey. 

 

Standing in front of her door he made himself knock quickly, before he could change his mind; it opened almost immediately. "You're ear...." Phryne stood speechless in her own doorway, in a shiny gold dress that seemed to be made from some sort of liquid and elaborate jewelry that Jack didn't understand, but knew well enough to appreciate as very expensive. In the middle of the feathered fascinator she held in her hands nested a small blue swallow he would have recognized, were he not so preoccupied in trying to remain upright in front of this most magnificent goddess. Backlit by the soft glow from inside her foyer, she appeared to have been molded out of gold and brought to life by magic; the effect was breathtaking. Her perfect red lips formed a perfect "O" of surprise.

 

Jack shuffled his feet a little in the silence. "Phryne, I'm sorry to disturb you. I didn't... You're obviously... I'm so.."

 

"Jack" she breathed, interrupting his stammering.

 

"Yes" he said shyly "Hello"

 

She blinked slowly and let go of the doorframe, taking a tentative step forward. Still clutching her fascinator, she placed her hands on his chest. She seemed somehow smaller than he remembered; upon closer inspection, he realized she was barefoot. 

 

"When Janey and I were little" she said, her voice low and solemn "there was never any money for birthday presents. So instead, Mother taught us that on the morning of your birthday, you got to make one very special wish. It was extra powerful, because it was a birthday wish, and it couldn't be something simple, like a doll; it had to be something impossible to get otherwise, like a rainbow, or snow. Janey and I used to love spending the day watching to see if our wishes would come true. I'd completely forgotten that we did that" her breath caught "until this morning, when I wished for you".

 

She gave a small hop and attached herself to his neck, digging her fingers into his back, burying her nose in the space just above his shirt collar, and taking a deep breath. He dropped his packages and caught her in his arms, holding her securely and stealing a sniff of her hair. “Tighter”, she ordered, “Hold me tighter”. He did as he was told, the soft wool of his overcoat tickling her back, which was left bare by her dress. "My Jack. Mine. _My_ Jack", he could hear her muttering. He had no objections to being claimed, and kissed her shoulder for it.

 

There's no way of knowing how long they stood there, breathing each other in. Eventually, everyone and everything found their way inside, and Jack was sitting on a couch, divested of coat and hat, with Phryne in his lap busily covering every inch of his face with soft kisses. He chuckled while patiently allowing her to work, but when she got to his mouth and began delicately kissing the outline of his top lip, he couldn’t take it anymore, and kissed back. It started out slow and tentative, a gentle brushing of his lips on hers, easing into the idea that this was real, that they had time, that there wasn’t an airplane in sight. Gradually he applied more and more pressure, eventually swiping the very tip of his tongue against the corner of her mouth. She settled back in his arms and welcomed him in with her tongue, licking his bottom lip and then gently tugging it between her teeth. He let out something like a light growl, and kissed her a little harder.

 

“How are you here? I had a telegram from you this morning!” she said a while later, when they were both catching their breath. Her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open “Those telegrams weren’t from you!” she gasped.

 

“No, no, no, they were!” he explained quickly, smiling as he squeezed her lightly in his arms “They _were_ from me! I wrote every one. I just wasn’t around to send them”

 

“Well then how…” She narrowed her eyes “Elizabeth Macmillan will pay for this! How could she not mention that you were coming?”

 

“I asked her not to. I didn’t want you to know. I… wanted it to be a surprise”

 

For some reason, she didn’t quite believe that, though she couldn’t have said why. He was spared from further investigation by the doorbell; they both jumped. “Damn”, groaned Phryne “That’s Frederic”

 

Jack felt his heart sink. So it began. “Of course. It’s your birthday. You were going to celebrate. I don’t want to ruin your fun, Phryne. Go on and enjoy yourself. May I come see you tomorrow?”

 

Phryne raised her eyebrows so far, there was danger of them flying off her face. But the more she searched Jack’s expression, the more she found that there wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in his words. He really was suggesting that she go out with another man, and he seriously was asking for _permission_ to visit the next day. She kissed the bridge of his nose. “Sailing for so long has clearly rattled your brain. Don’t move a single muscle”

 

She climbed off his lap and padded back to the foyer, where she threw open the door. Jack couldn’t hear the conversation, but in a few minutes he heard the door close, and Phryne walked back in, holding an enormous box containing the most exquisite red roses he had ever seen. She tossed them onto a chair without looking, and curled up into Jack’s side, her legs tucked under her.

 

“Now, where were we? Oh yes, you were sending me off to go out with someone else” She looked at him pointedly. “Care to explain?”

 

Jack turned towards her, tucked her hair behind her ears, and shrugged. “I just didn’t want to spoil your plans, Phryne. That’s all”

 

“But you’re my birthday wish, Jack. How could you possibly spoil anything?”

 

He kissed her for that, slow and thorough and loving, while cradling her head in his hands. When they pulled apart, her eyes remained closed. “Speaking of birthdays, would you like to open your presents now?” he rumbled in her ear.

 

Phryne’s eyes flew open and she smiled delightedly, like a young child. “Presents?”

 

Jack chuckled and kissed her cheek. “Yes, presents” He got up to retrieve his packages from a little table by the door and settled back in his spot, with Phryne next to him. “Which one would you like first?”

 

She loved her illegal books (she especially loved that they had been illegally obtained), and Mr. Butler’s thoughtful gift (a small velvet pouch filled with eucalyptus cones, to put inside her suitcase and keep her clothes from getting musty). She opened Mac’s box last, stopping first to read the card stuck on top of the lid. She remained silent for a long time; when she looked up, her eyes were wet.

 

“This box isn’t for me, Jack” She placed the card and the package in his hands, and got up to pour them both a drink.

 

Jack read Mac’s card: “I didn’t give it to him. He made the decision on his own, without it. Keep that in mind, would you? Love, Mac”

 

“I don’t understand…” he said, as he took the tumbler of whisky from Phryne.

 

“Open the box”

 

He took a sip and set his glass on a small side table, then lifted the lid. The box was filled with wadded up newspaper. Tucked away in a corner, to keep it from rattling around, was a green case shaped like a clamshell. He opened it.

 

“Is this your…?”

 

“A new one, yes. The old one, you’ll remember, was taken into police custody. I never got it back. And even if I had…” She shuddered, remembering the glass jar in Jack’s desk drawer. “So I had Mac fit me for a new one” Phryne took the case from his hands and straddled his lap, bunching her skirt around her thighs. “But when I went to pick it up at the hospital before my trip, I realized I didn’t want to… need it… until I needed it with you. So I left it with Mac, and told her to give it to you, for safekeeping”. She tossed back her whisky, and refused to meet his eyes, instead leaning over to place her glass next to his on the table.

 

“Phryne” he whispered hoarsely “I would have come anyway”

 

“You did come anyway” Her voice cracked, and she finally looked at him “You came on nothing but the fact that I wanted you here. And you couldn’t even have been sure of that. That’s why you didn’t tell me, isn’t it? You were afraid I’d change my mind and run away” Jack nodded, and looked ashamed. She kissed him softly. “I don’t make promises, Jack. Promises are just words. People forget them, and break them, and ultimately they mean nothing. Actions speak far louder than promises”

 

The only thing he could think to do was kiss her, so he did. Gently, and passionately, and eagerly, and carefully, he kissed her, while his hands roamed over her back, tangled in her hair, stroked her arms and hips and explored her thighs above her garters. For a very long time –or a very short one, depending on how you measured it- he held her and kissed her, explaining with his arms and with his tongue the many ways in which he loved her. He worshipped her with his kisses, covering her lips and face first, and then moving on to her neck, dipping down to her clavicle, travelling down to where her dress began, right between her breasts, and following the very edge of the fabric right back up to her shoulder, only to start all over again. She allowed herself to be loved, and responded in kind, removing her heavy necklace to give him room, letting him set the pace but slowly increasing the heat of her kisses, running her hands over his arms and back, unbuttoning first one, then three of his buttons and removing his tie, slipping her fingers inside his collar to touch his bare skin (he hissed like he’d been burned, but when she made to remove her hand he begged her not to). She finally ran out of patience, and bit his bottom lip, while grinding down on his crotch, earning a moan from deep inside Jack’s chest.

 

“Come with me, Jack”, she said while standing up.

 

She took him by the hand and led him down a long hallway, to her bedroom. It was much like the one she had at Wardlow, but the bed was much larger, and –it being the dead of winter- hosted several fluffy feather-filled covers, as well as a plethora of very soft looking pillows. She kissed him deeply while he cupped her bottom, then told him to make himself comfortable and disappeared into the adjoining bathroom.

 

Phryne looked at herself in her bathroom mirror, and almost didn’t recognize the woman staring back at her. Her shiny cap of black hair was now a series of spikes and upturned pieces falling all over each other. Her lipstick was long gone, leaving a vaguely pink imprint all around her mouth, making her look like a clown after a long day at the circus. But the main distortion of her features was brought about by the giant grin that she couldn’t restrain, though her face was starting to hurt. Her eyes were sparkling and every once in a while she giggled for no reason. Smiling broadly and helplessly, she washed the remnants of her makeup off, brushed her hair, took off her clothes and removed her jewelry, took care of family planning, and wrapped herself in a red silk dressing gown.

 

When she came out of the bathroom, the sight that greeted her made her forget how to breathe for a moment. Jack had indeed made himself comfortable in Phryne’s enormous bed. He had removed his jacket and waistcoat, and was lying sideways on a mound of colorful pillows, arms crossed over his chest, legs sticking out straight in front of him, probably to keep his shoes off the bedspread. Having succumbed to the exhaustion that came with three months of worrying in the middle of the ocean, Jack Robinson was fast asleep.

 

“Thank you”, whispered Phryne, to whoever was responsible for the birthday wishes of grown women who hadn’t had much of a childhood. She quietly opened a chest of drawers, removed a pair of pink flannel pajamas, and changed out of her robe right there, while watching Jack sleep. She went over to him and gently removed his shoes, then softly kissed his temple and ran her fingers through his hair, while just as softly calling his name.

 

“Jack?” He stirred. “Jack, darling, wake up a little. Not all the way, just enough to get under the covers” She kept kissing him, until he opened his eyes.

 

“Phryne? What’s… did I fall asleep?” His words were a little slurred, and he could barely keep his eyes open; his curls tumbled over his forehead, in a way that made him look simply irresistible.

 

“Shhh… you still are asleep, my darling”, Phryne whispered. “Now lean on me just for a second… careful standing up… lift your… there’s a love, now lie back down… oomf! No, don’t take me with you” With some difficulty, and very little help from Jack, she managed to get him tucked in. Rounding the other side of the bed, she wriggled next to him and propped herself up on some cushions, coaxing his head down to her chest, until he was pillowed on her breasts and she could wrap her arms around him.

 

“…see Phryne… ‘grams… Phry’”, he mumbled incoherently, while throwing his arms around her waist and snuggling close.

 

“Shhh… rest now, beautiful man. You’re home. We’re both home, Jack” she barely whispered. She kissed his hair, spelling love letters all over his back with her hands, until she felt him relax completely and he began snoring softly. Only then, with her heart full of happiness and her arms full of Jack, did Phryne drift off to sleep as well.


End file.
